


After

by visenyashill



Category: American Horror Story
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Post Finale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:55:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visenyashill/pseuds/visenyashill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was hateful and desperate and sad. It was everything they were, everything they’d become.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small porn-y drabble. This might progress into a collection....

They started having sex again a few years after she died. They fucked in the kitchen, in the tub where she died and on the floor where he died. They fucked on the damn gazebo and in the basement. So often in the basement, against walls that left them with bruised backs and raw palms. He spoke to her through angry purple bruises that she would have to explain to her mother and she responded with scratches he wouldn’t have to explain to anyone. It was hateful and desperate and sad. It was everything they were, everything they’d become.


	2. Chapter 2

He walks past every day on his way to school. The beautiful blonde boy with darker eyes than she’d ever seen. He’s a carbon copy of Tate, right down to the volatility behind the dimpled smile. She watches him pass from her place in the yard, his stride smoother and more graceful than the waddling steps of the other children. She raises the cigarette to her lips and inhales slowly and deeply. The comfort the burn in her throat used to provide is now as stale as the taste of it. She exhales in a short, exasperated huff. A snort comes from behind her.  
“The novelty worn off?” She takes another drag, almost defiantly, at which he snorts again.  
She feels the question rising in her throat, threatening to slip out with her exhale. She holds it in as long as she can. She promised herself she would never ask, swore that she didn’t want to know. But promises have no place here.  
“Why?” she whispers on her exhale, the word mingling with the pale smoke in the morning air.  
He’s already gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I guess this officially a series now. Thank you for the kudos!

He scares her the most like this. With his lips pressed to her neck and his knuckles tracing lazy circles into her skin. The low rumble of his breath is too loud, the slow roll of his hips is a countdown to some terrible, violent outburst. He's a study of dormant volatility and quiet rage and she's scared. Scared, because pressed beneath his warm body she's the farthest from scared she's been in a long while.


	4. Chapter 4

She often thinks about how she ended up like this, as such as cliche. Another stupid, depressed, surly teenage girl who let a boy work his way under her skin and eat away at her sanity. She hates that she let him corrupt her, ruin her, _taint_ her and that she was too naive to see how this would end up. Maybe she did see. Maybe she didn’t care. Maybe she liked the feel of his hand over her mouth, the suction of it, the ache of calloused fingertips pressing into her cheek, the salty taste of his skin. Maybe she liked the strength in his arms and the wild look in his eyes. Maybe she liked that he almost cut someone in half f _or her_. Maybe she should have been more careful, maybe she should have run away from him as fast as she could and maybe she should’ve hid. Maybe she should’ve been a good girl. Maybe she should’ve shopped at Forever 21 and listened to Katy Perry and dated football players. Good girls don’t end up decomposing in crawl spaces.


End file.
